Epsilon Squadron: Task Force MI5
by Valkerian
Summary: The story of Pvt. MAtt Griffith and Epsilon Squadron's 5th Battalion on the colony planet of Mylon. Chapter 6: Griffith and the marines defend Point 205 against the zerg swarm
1. Chapter 1 The Crash

Author's note: Since the fall of the Confederacy, the fate of Epsilon Squadron has yet been unknown. In my story Epsilon Squadron joined the Dominion along with the other squadrons. Here is the story of Epsilon's 5th Battalion.

The deck, the bulkheads- everything shuddered out of control. Low yellow light gave way to red blinking lights as an alarm squawked filling the troop bay with its shrill cry. My squad mates rattled in their armor. Their pulse raced, that I was sure. Blearily Sergeant Thorpe raised a trembling hand then planted it on his pickup.

"Cockpit. What the devil is going on?"

A female voice responded, breaking into the channel. "We're under attack! Mutas are engaging our escorts as we speak!"

I could only imagine what was going on outside the dropship's hull. Zerg Mutalisks were probably double and triple teaming the Wraiths, the others going after the dropships. Our escorts would do everything they can to protect us but not much could hold back a swarm of Mutalisks. Already some of our ships were going down. We wailed toward the same fate.

"Evasive! Don't let those bastards tag us!" the sergeant yelled.

"I'm doing the best I can! Now stop your yapping and let me do my job! How am I supposed to concentrate with you barking in my ear?"

I sank back deeper into my seat as the attack wore on. With a heaving chest I chanted a hymn I learned in my childhood. It was all I could do to keep myself calm. Almost everyone else was in a state of pale panic. They would probably running around like a bunch of raving lunatics if it wasn't for the fact that they were strapped down in their seats like me.

A hand slapped itself hard on my shoulder. I wrenched a look to see whom it was and was greeted by familiar blue eyes.

"You praying?" Private Brayburn snapped at me. "Because if you are, I'll tell you now: Nobody's listening!"

I had half a mind to smirk at him. Suddenly a muffled explosion sent me cowering back into my seat. We all screamed in unison as another explosion, louder and more violent than the last, occurred.

"What the hell was that?" I heard someone shout.

The pilot broke into the channel again, her voice shaky and not without agitation. "We're hit!"

"Do something!" Thorpe hollered at the woman.

"I'm trying but the controls are dead!"

"If you don't do something fast we're all gonna be dead!"

The dropship now hurtled earthward, fighting for control. My gut refused to settle as it fought a battle of its own.

"Hold on! I'm gonna crash this heap!"

I wished I could believe the pilot. We're all gonna die. It was evident in the faces of my squad mates.

And a man, at the point of dying, would see his life flash before his very eyes.

Like I needed to be reminded of just how messed up my life was.

But I didn't see it. Just the red lights blinking and my squad mates screaming and everything else going to hell.


	2. Chapter 2 The Survivors Regroup

Epsilon Squadron: Task Force MI-5 Chapter 2

- The Survivors Regroup -

Flashes, images, a muddle of familiar suits of armor. Had we crashed? Probably. I was still alive, that was evident in the debilitating pain in my head and back. Red lights kept blinking: warning, warning. With a shaky hand I tried to throw of the buckles to my harness. I staggered up to my knees, reached for my rifle.

"C'mon."

A hand slipped under my arm, holding me up. I couldn't clearly see who it was. My vision was hazy. Vaguely I heard someone shout "Go Go Go!" and "Let's get the hell outta here!" in tandem with the thudding of boots that mercilessly struck the deck. I couldn't care less where we were going. Just not here.

Then bright light swallowed me.

Shots rang aloud. I looked up to see one of our guys aiming at the sky, the muzzle of his rifle spitting out fire. What was he shooting at?

"Save your ammo, Private! Get the hell moving!

That was Sergeant Thorpe. Obviously he was alive and well. Grunts echoed in response as the shooting ceased and we fell back behind a rock formation a few meters from the dropship's wreck. Slowly I regained my senses and I found myself staring at my squad. Sergeant Thorpe, Brayburn, Montauk, Langley, Reefer, Peterson and McGee. The pilot, scuffed but alive, flak pistol in her hand.

Walker, the only Ghost in our squad. I was still holding on to him because I could barely stand

on my feet. "Easy, Griffith," he said to me, voice scrambler hissing. "Easy, I got you."

I straightened up to my feet, gripped the rifle. By then my senses were back to normal. I could plainly hear the sarge talking to Langley, our squad's comp and comm expert. "Well?" the sarge snapped at him suddenly.

"No response from HQ, boss. Just a whole lot of static. Fleet ain't hearing us either. We're cut off from everybody else." Langley replied nervously.

That drained the hope from us. Stranded in the middle of nowhere that was turning into a hot bed of Zerg activity, limited ammo and no possibility of rescue could easily break a man.

The Ghost, however, was another thing. "How far is it to our objective?"

Langley checked his comp slate again even as we guffawed, waiting for a response. He shook his head, expression still sour then said, "MI-5 Colony is fifteen clicks due northeast of our position, sir. You want us to hump all the way there?"

"Whatever it takes as long as we get there." the Ghost replied with optimism. Then he regarded Thorpe. "But it's your show, Sergeant. You call the shots. I'm merely here as a hand."

The sarge was no stranger to the role of leader. He was once with Alpha Squadron, a former Blood hawk, before the Dominion re-assigned him to Epsilon. Thorpe thought for a second, analyzing the situation. "There's nothing we can do here by ourselves. We march to MI-5 and try to link up with the rest of the battalion...if they made it. Stay sharp and stick together. Those Zerg are tricky. Try to avoid them if possible." He scanned our blank faces then yelled Let's move!"


	3. Chapter 3 Death March

Epsilon Squadron: Task Force MI-5 Chapter 3

- Death March –

How long had we been marching? And how far? I didn't know. All I could think of was reaching our objective which was fifteen clicks away from us. Already the long trip was taking a toll on us. The yellow sun beating high above our heads was raising temperatures, internally and externally. I was reeking of sweat that constantly trickled down my brow. The sickening empty beauty of the wasteland was already a common sight for me. Sickly looking vegetation lingered about, struggling to survive under the extreme conditions. I wondered aloud how we were to survive until we get to our objective.

"We do what we must," Walker replied. He paused for a second, holding his ground, possibly scanning our surroundings. "There."

"What did you see?" Thorpe throatily asked. It was his decision to let the Ghost walk on point for our squad, put his ocular implants to good use he said. Obviously he, like the rest of us, didn't know what Walker was seeing. It was just too far for our normal vision to comprehend.

"A crash site," Walker answered, voice scrambler hissing. He lingered on for a few more brief seconds then resumed the march. We followed suit.

The minutes passed but it seemed like hours. Occasionally we took five minute breaks to relieve our fatigued bodies, under the shade of some boulder.

"Langley, are you sure its fifteen clicks northwest?" Montauk crowed out loud from behind.

Langley checked his comp slate again then said, "Yup, its fifteen clicks." He stupidly grinned at Montauk. "You can check out my comp if you want. You can read, doncha?"

"Just making sure, geek breath," Montauk replied sourly. "I ain't in the mood to walk twenty five clicks to some God forbidden colony."

"When are you ever in the mood, Montauk," Brayburn snapped. He grinned infectiously.

I wished they would shut up.

"We've traveled far. I'm sure the colony is a good click or two from our position." Langley went on, eyes still glued to the comp. "If I'm correct, and I think I am, MI-5 should be just over that ridge."

The ground rose sharply and we had to dig our boots in for support. Brayburn was helping the pilot up since she didn't have intense training like we Marines had. Walker led the way up, followed by Thorpe and me, the rest trailing behind with Peterson guarding our rear. You could never be too careful. The Zerg could pop out anywhere thanks to their ability to burrow underground. I kept my rifle up, butt jammed against the thickness of my shoulder armor, eyes to the rifle sights.

Then we reached the top.

"There it is!" I heard Langley cry out in glee. Indeed it was a sight for sore eyes. Relief at last. The rest of my loose squad whooped and cheered, their voices echoing out in the open. Even Walker breathed out a sigh of content as he scanned our surroundings once more. But then…

"Be quiet!" Walker suddenly said out loud, driving us to silence. He looked around, C-10 canister rifle up and ready, scoping out targets. We shouldered our weapons but didn't see any hostiles.

"What is it?" Thorpe asked.

The Ghost exhaled then inhaled deeply. "We're not alone."

I looked around. So did the others. We still didn't see anything.

"Don't tell me the Zerg can cloak now, mister specialist." Montauk joked out loud. He smiled crookedly as he slowly brought down his Gauss rifle, muzzle to the earth.

Walker didn't say anything. He kept his rifle up, finger to the trigger. I knew he sensed something but I was sure what. Then suddenly he turned toward me and fired.

"What the hell?!"

I didn't feel anything, not even in reflex. I wasn't shot. The ground behind me exploded, blood and guts gushing out like a fountain. Dead Zerg in the hole just a few meters from my position. Walker knew.

"We got more of them!!!"

Earth was thrown high up in the air as more Zerg popped out of their holes, their snarls filling the wide empty space of the wasteland. Quickly I shouldered my rifle and liberated depleted uranium shells from my weapon. U-238 rounds. The sudden sound of gunfire stabbed wildly in my mind as I took out one hydralisk to another.

"Fire!"

That was Thorpe, yelling out a command to kill. He didn't have to tell us twice. We were already firing. Zerglings and Hydralisks fell left and right from our unrelenting barrage. Walker cocked his rifle then took aim at a Zergling that was about to pounce at Brayburn. Guns blazed unceasingly as more Zerg entered the fray, getting closer and closer to our position.

I saw disaster in five seconds.

"Run!" Thorpe yelled out as he waved his rifle back and forth, keeping Zerg at bay while we made our way down the slope. Vaguely I heard Langley establishing contact with the colony, his voice frantic as he desperately dialed up the frequency.

"MI-5! MI-5! This is Corporal Langley of Epsilon 5th Battalion. We are under attack by the Zerg! Repeat: We are under attack by the Zerg! Requesting immediate assistance!"

I looked back and saw the multitudes coming down on us and knew that it would take a miracle for us to survive this.


	4. Chapter 4 Infirmary

Author's note: Sorry it took so long to come up with another chapter. I have work, ya know!

- Epsilon Squadron: Task Force MI-5 Chapter 4

- Infirmary -

A loud shriek filled the open space of the wasteland. The sound stabbed painfully at my mind like a scythe to human tissue. Already it seemed like the end. I raised my rifle, shot after shot spewing forth as

I tried to take down as many Zerg as I can with the little ammo I had left. Marines fought to the bitter end; I was no exception. Everything I learned in combat about fighting Zerg I would put to use now. I kept on firing even as Zerglings rushed toward me, some to be torn open by well placed rifle fire, others blown by a grenade someone threw. Looked liked nobody in my squad was going to make it easy for the Zerg. I glanced left and right to see them stand their ground and give challenge to hostiles, visors gleaming in the harsh light of the wasteland sun. Even the pilot, with her small flak pistol. She was probably tired of running, like we were, and chose to fight. I saw how tight she held her weapon, eyes squinting, choosing a target. Vaguely I heard Walker cock his canister rifle. He led us this far. Maybe he would cook up a plan to save our skins from being filleted. Ghosts received intensive training, more intense than the hell Marines went through. I could only hope that he could save us.

"We've got incoming!" Langley cried out.

A thunderous explosion occurred before I had time to react. It ruptured the earth and wiped out a dozen or more Zerg just a few yards away from us. The shockwave registered all the way to my marrow. I blinked halfway and watched the aftermath.

"What the hell was that?! Cannon fire?" I heard Thorpe yell, surprised.

Out of nowhere something pierced my left shoulder. I felt it exit through and through. The pain was so sudden I disgraced myself by screaming. I fell flat on the ground. Blood, warmth and life slowly ebbed away from me. All senses seemed to shut down and I felt as though I was alone. I screamed again but this time it barely sounded like a whisper. Was this how it felt to die? So many desires, so many things to do, so many mistakes that I wanted to rectify. But I was out of time. This was it. Suddenly a bright light engulfed me.

"Matt? Matt! Please, calm down."

My breath came in rapid gasps, heart rate peaking the meter. Wasn't I dead. I had to be. But I touched my cheek. No, I felt real. The pain in my left shoulder, where I was hit, was real too. To my surprise I found myself in a hospital room when I expected to more of the wasteland. The Zerg were gone and replaced by white walls. Gentle ceiling lights shone down above me instead of the sun. And I was clothed in a loose gown, not army issue wear.

"Matt, you're not well. Lie down and get rested." I heard the nurse say. She was young, barely my age, clad in a spotless white uniform. Her chestnut mane flowed freely down her shoulders, smooth like it was painted on her. It reminded me of something...or someone.

"Where am I?" I ventured.

"MI-5," she simply replied.

"Really?"

"Yes," she replied as she looked down at me with a physician's eyes. "We received a distress call from a Corporal Langley of Epsilon Squadron's 5th Battalion. Militia sent out a rescue team, encountered the aliens and…now you're here."

Slowly I looked down at the white hospital blanket, fingers tracing the many wrinkles on the fabric. Finally, I reached the objective. I'm safe...at least for now. But...

"Where's my squad?"

She seemed hesitant, as if there was something I shouldn't know. "They're hurt, some worse than you, but don't worry. They're alive."

"I see..." At least no one died. I had no more questions for the time being. Instead, I felt the sudden urge to eat or drink something. It had been hours since I had a meal.

She was silent for a minute, intently looking at me. But then she moved closer, hands slowly reaching out to lightly touch my shoulders. I could smell her shampoo and the faint scent of disinfectant as she moved closer, easing me back to my bed. "Matt, you better get rested." she said.

"How come you know my name?" That was a stupid question. I was still groggy and in pain. She probably read my dog tags and now she was addressing me by my first name to put me at ease. Nurses did that sort of thing to calm down battle weary Marines.

Her smile faltered. "You don't recognize me, do you?"

I only looked at her blandly. Yes, she did resemble someone but it couldn't be her.

She waved a hand then placed it on her hip. "Um…Never mind. It's nothing."

"C'mon." My eyes squinted at her, trying to figure her out. "Talk to me."

"You need rest, Pvt. Griffith. That shoulder of yours needs to heal properly. Get to sleep, now. Otherwise you won't be able to hold another rifle in your hands again."

That wasn't a threat. I slowly eased myself down to bed even as she scribbled something on her notepad. She was about to leave when I called out, "Could you bring me a sandwich, please? I'm starved!"

She only glanced back then nodded.


	5. Chapter 5 Calm Before The Storm

Epsilon Squadron: Task Force MI-5 Chapter 5

- Calm before the Storm –

"So how's that shoulder of yours?" Brayburn asked after a while, even as he steered the humvee through a maze of rock formations and huge boulders.

"Its better," I replied then gripped my rifle as the bumps sent shocks up my spine. For some reason he pulled security patrol and took me, Langley and Montauk along for the ride. Maybe he was just making a way to amuse himself. It'd been days since our last encounter with the Zerg and so far nothing has happened. Yet.

"You took a hit real hard. Ugly mother sent a spine through your shoulder. I thought you were gonna bite the dust for sure." Brayburn said.

Montauk, who sat beside the driver's seat, lit a cig. "Well, our boy Griffith almost had it. An inch and a half more and it could've been his heart." He looked back at me then graciously offered me a stick. "You want one, boy?"

I gave him a second look. His face was the face of a man who didn't take no for an answer, and he was rarely in a giving mood. "Yeah, don't mind if I do," I replied, taking the cig from him and inserting it between my lips. I took out my lighter from a pocket then lit it, drawing in smoke like a lover of smoking who smoked only after meals.

"As I was saying," Montauk went on, " Griffith here almost had it. Reefer too. Blasted 'Ling pounced on him then started to stab away. The poor guy was fifty-fifty by the time I kicked the thing over and killed it. A miracle that he made it to MI-5 alive. And McGee? He almost got it, too. He took a spine right through his right leg, almost got it blown off. He's okay now and still able to walk, though I doubt he'll be making twenty five click death marches through the wasteland anytime soon."

"Really?" I said, half believing everything he just said. I glanced to the yellow sun that was slowly setting down the uneven horizon. It has been a long time since I last watched a sunset for real. This was way better than the holovids I watched during off hours. The orange-blue sky was a sight to behold. The stars were coming out one by one, gleaming jewels that shone high above our heads. Intricate shadow art splayed itself on the unassuming earth. I had to admit the view here was way better than what I was accustomed to, staring out through a window as our science vessel streaked through the vacuum of space.

Langley, who sat across from me with his computer slate, opened up his mouth and said, "Speaking about luck, have you guys seen the nurse that had been shadowing Griffith these past few days? She's beyond solar flare status, more like a supernova."

"Hell yeah," Brayburn replied then let out a mischievous chuckle. "She can ignite my world anytime she wants. You at least got her name, right Max?"

"Elaine Campbell. Age nineteen. Graduated with top honors. Accelerated due to high I.Q., smart and very resourceful. Assigned to MI-5 less than a year ago."

"Wow…you certainly did your research, runt," was Montauk's cold comment, for the subject didn't interest him.

Brayburn, on the other hand, was very much interested. "Keep reading, Max. Tell me what her sign is, what she likes…you know, the works. I want to know everything."

"Why? You campaigning to be her next boyfriend?" I snapped.

"If she's available, then yes I'm campaigning." He gave me one of his trademark smiles, blue eyes locking on to mine. "Why? You jealous?"

"Keep your eyes on the damn road!" Montauk hollered, gritting his teeth.

"No, I'm not jealous. You speak as though there was something going on between Elaine and me."

"Is there?"

My brows arced high. "Hell no!"

I knew he was smiling even though he kept his eyes on the road. "So you won't mind if I take her from you?"

"You can try but I think you'll fail. Her standards are pretty high."

"Now you speak like there's something going on between you." Brayburn said.

"You have no idea, man." I wasn't going to tell him that Elaine and I shared a past, that we were once very intimate friends since we were kids. I sucked at my cig so I wouldn't have to say anything else.

"Well, I think she needs some excitement in her life. She could use someone who has a sense of adventure, who has style and class." Brayburn said with his most serious air. "She needs someone, you know, like me."

"Bullshit!" Langley and Montauk said in unison. I couldn't agree more.

Brayburn laughed that devil's laugh then gunned the humvee forward, increasing its speed. The cold air was now making my cheeks flap as he accelerated some more, toward the ridge where we first laid eyes on MI-5. We were moving away from the colony.

"Keith, where the hell do you think you're going?" Langley snapped. "Turn back, you moron!"

"What? It's not like the Zerg would still be here," Brayburn snapped back. "You're being too paranoid."

Langley shook his head at him, giving up. "Fine, do what you want but I'm telling you I have a bad feeling about this." He poked at the radio then established communication with MI-5. "Base, this is Patrol 13, Corporal Langley reporting in."

"We read you, Corporal. Anything to report?" was the comm officer's reply.

Langley sucked in air as he surveyed the scene. "We're near point 332. So far there's nothing, but I got a bad feeling about this."

"Report in anything out of the ordinary."

"I'm keeping my eyes peeled sharp already." Langley replied. "And right now all I see are a few birds flying high in the sky. Ain't nothin' strange 'bout that."

Brief pause…then, "Corporal, there are no birds on planet Mylon."

"Really? Then what the hell are those?" he muttered, pointing to a point on the sky where indeed some birds were flying.

Montauk reached in the humvee's glove compartment then took out a pair of binoculars. Gingerly he applied it to his eyes then scanned the horizon. He examined the place where Langley directed then paused for a moment. Then his expression changed. "Holy shit…"

The comm officer came in through again, this time agitated. "Corporal, get your guys out of there now!"

"Why? Is there something you're not telling us, comm.?" Langley asked.

The hovering spots in the sky drew closer to our position, growing more and more in detail. My eyes popped out of their sockets as I slowly realized what they were. It let out a shrill cry then dove straight at us. I liberated short random spurts from my rifle, Montauk and Langley doing the same. Brayburn swerved a full 180 then gunned the humvee back home, accelerating at break neck speeds. The swarm followed us.

"Damn, I knew something was going to go wrong!" I heard Langley say.

One of the Mutalisks shot out its glaive wurms at us. The earth around us ruptured as it tried to tag us. I shot out a volley once more, hitting nothing but air. It was difficult to aim at a moving target when you yourself are moving. I shot out again, the sounds stabbing loudly at my ears, U-238 rounds ripping through the orange-blue atmosphere. The Mutalisks kept coming, unfazed by our rampant gunning.

"Can't this thing go any faster?!" Montauk shouted.

Suddenly a loud explosion echoed out and the next thing I knew was I was airborne. A brief second more and I was on the ground, numb and dazed. My rifle lay a few feet away from my face. Desparately I tried to reach out and touch but the effort was too great. I was out of strength and breath. Burning fuel pervaded the twilight atmosphere and I stared up into a starry sky. I heard Montauk groan, boots scraping the ground as he tried to get up. He hobbled to where I was then grabbed my arm, hauling me up.

"C'mon, we gotta go..." he muttered breathlessly.

"What the hell happened?" I said as I grabbed hold of him then shakily got up to my feet.

"We got tagged." That was all Montauk called say.

My neck felt loose on my neck. I looked around then limped to where my weapon was. The Mutalisks that were after us were gone, insignificant spots on the distant horizon. I half wished they would come back so I could dish out a little payback. Ill-advised, of course.

Where's Brayburn and Langley?

"Help! I need some help over here!"


	6. Chapter 6 Point 205

Epsilon Squadron: Task Force MI-5 Chapter 6

- Point 205 -

I couldn't remember exactly how we got back to base. The last thing I recall doing was calling for help on the radio to any MI-5 patrols within the vicinity. I remember pulling Langley's body away from the humvee's mangled wreck. I remember collapsing on the dirt, wincing at the pain I was going through. Then everything became hazy, blurred.

Montauk, Brayburn and me were lucky enough to suffer only minor injuries: cuts, bruises and abrasions. I wished I could say the same for Langley. The man was in a coma, despite the medic's hasty administration on his wounds. He was battered, broken and bleeding, crushed by the humvee's wreck. Immediately he was sent off to surgery. All we could do was look on as the O.R.'s double doors slowly closed, blocking him from our view.

We barely had time to recuperate from the incident. Major Gerald Fulton, our CO, has ordered us and the rest of 1st Platoon to a mission: defend Point 205, a pass thirty clicks southwest of MI-5. Zerg activity in that sector became rampant twenty hours ago. They were massing forces, possibly for an imminent attack on the colony. SCVs and a group of militia men were dispatched earlier to secure the area with a defensive line of bunkers and trenches. Once our platoon reached the objective, we would take over in the defense of that pass. Failure wasn't an option; a gap in the ranks would spell doom to the colony and its defenders. Either we win or die.

That thought still lingered with me even as I stepped out of the APC to behold a blood red sky. The setting sun, a dull yellow sphere, met the jagged horizon. The light that struck us foretold the coming of imminent death as the shadows fell on the marines, on their bunkers and trenches. Dark clouds would pour in a bounty of rain that would try in vain to quench the thirst of the wasted earth. Soon it would drink blood. Our blood.

"Ain't it great to be alive!" I heard Thorpe yell out to us. "The fun will start soon so get ready." He turned his head to regard the rest of the platoon then marched forward, each marine to his post. The sound of boots on the ground and weapons being cocked filled my head as I lagged behind, taking in as much of the ghostly scenery as I could, knowing that it could be my very last.

"There." I heard someone say from behind. I looked back to see the Ghost, Walker, scarred on his reflective mask. He carried his C-10 rifle with one hand, the other pointing at something at the distant horizon.

"What is it?"

"Zerg..." he hissed. He cocked his rifle just as two siege tanks rolled past us, making their way to the frontline. I saw the massive Arclite cannons raised 45 degrees to the air, the metal glistening and foreboding mass destruction. They were marked MI-5. Only two but it would have to suffice considering colonial militia force weren't as formidable as a marine battalion. Then more armor revealed itself to us in the form of a group of vultures hastily making it back to our line. They were also marked MI-5. One of the drivers, the group leader I assumed, jumped off his bike then speedily marched up toward Walker. He removed his helmet, his face glistening with sweat.

"Specialist Charlie Four Seven?"

"What do you have to report?" the Ghost asked in response.

The driver tensed then gave his report. "Mines are planted and armed." He cast a look at the horizon then returned his gaze to Walker. "It should bleed them a little, though I doubt it would disperse them. We're up against a massive army of Zerg, sir. Too many to count."

"I know. I can see them." He shifted, facing the battlefield. Then he gave an order. "Have your vultures ready. We'll plant mines behind our asses if we're forced to fall back to the secondary position. Make them bleed while we escape. Otherwise we're fucked."

I took that as a cue and walked off, toward my trench, toward my squad. By then the Zero army was visible, a cloud of dust kicked up in the distance. The apprehension was thick enough to be seen. It was evident on their faces.

"This is a bad day to die," Montauk muttered as he looked up to the twilight sky.

Reefer followed his gaze then shook his head. "Heaven won't help us now," he said. "God isn't here."

"When was he ever?" Bray burn said, with a smirk. "If God was here, we wouldn't be sitting in a ditch waiting to get filleted!"

That drew sour faces expressions and responses from the other marines. Montauk was one of them.

"Why you atheistic son of a bitch! I oughtta-"

"That's enough!"

I knew better than to move upon hearing that tone of voice. We all snapped taut as Sergeant Thorpe marched up to us then stared squarely at Montauk's and Brayburn's faces, cig still between his teeth. His blood shot eyes was anything but friendly.

"THERE is your enemy," he said, pointing at the horizon, toward the dust cloud. "Since you two have a lot of fight in you, I suggest you use it against the zerg. There's plenty to go around." He cocked his rifle, drew in smoke. "No more talks about our Maker or I'll personally make you meet him one way or the other."

The two men backed way from each other, gritting their teeth. It was just the beginning though.

"They're getting close..." Walker said from behind. "Distance: 800 yards."

"Holy shit!"

"Marines! Weapons at the ready!" the Ghost cried out.

The sounds of guns being cocked filled the air, filled my head.

"600 yards!" Walker yelled out. "Siege tanks! Siege mode, now!"

I looked back to see our tanks slowly convert to stationary artillery, the cannons jutting, foreboding death. I turned to the battle field. By then the Zerg could be plainly made out, with scythes gleaming in the remaining light. I swallowed.

"400 yards" the Ghost yelled out again. He cocked his C-10 rifle then gazed out at us, mask hiding whatever expression he had. "Open fire on my signal! Make every shot count!"

By then the fear that I felt earlier was changed to numbness. I couldn't feel anything, everything blurred and distant. As the orb of the setting sun slowly vanished under the horizon, I cast a final look to the sky, the planet's twin moons casting a dull light over the battlefield as they occasionally peeked through the dark clouds. A bolt of lightning flashed followed by the roaring thunder. I knew that it was time


End file.
